Sanguine Eyes
by ElijahMunro
Summary: It had been seven weeks since the semester had commenced and every day it was the same torture. At times Emma wondered if he could actually see her undressing him with her eyes and enjoying every minute of it. She wondered if he did the same when she wasn't looking.


**A/N:** Hello everyone! Here's the first part of a three/four part fic that I've written to satisfy my urge to write a professor!Killian fic. I should mention that in this fic Emma came to Boston to go to university and has not interacted with Neal. There will be eventual smut so if that's not for you then this is not the fic you want to read. I hope you enjoy it and I would love to hear your comments/suggestions on my first smutty CS fic.

**Sanguine Eyes**

_Chapter 1: Holland Road_

Taking the end of her pencil between her teeth, she tried not to imagine him naked. It was really quite a feat as his body was practically made for sin and Emma considered herself quite the sinner.

As she sat at the front of his class with her thick-framed black glasses perched on her nose, she could see with painful clarity the play of muscle beneath the black t-shirt he wore, the stretch of worn denim across powerful thighs. She squeezed her own together in anticipation, her leather leggings making the heat of her want almost unbearable.

It had been seven weeks since the semester had commenced and every day it was the same torture of lingering stares, eye sex and vivid daydreams. At times Emma wondered if he could actually see her undressing him with her eyes and enjoying every minute of it. She wondered if he did the same when she wasn't looking. She revelled in the thought.

Smirking, Emma leaned back in her chair and thought back to that very first day, back to the start of their little dance. Of course back then she had had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had no idea of what would await her.

Goddammit. Why must I be late for everything? _Emma chastised herself as she sprinted across campus in her white Converse. Her school bag bounced at her hip as she ran, the rough shoulder strap causing abrasions on her bared skin._

_The sun beat down on her head as her feet pounded the pavement, the warm September morning humid and making her thick blond hair stick to the back of her neck. God, Emma hated being sweaty. She had wanted to be cool and collected on the first day of the new semester. Now she would be lucky if she were only rumpled and damp._

_For everyone else a new semester was a fresh start, a clean slate. For Emma it was a fresh hell, a new wound that would only continue to fester over the course of the term. She had never been the one who succeeded in school. She had-usually- done well enough to get by in high school but university was honestly and truly kicking her ass. It was a whole new ball game that Emma hadn't quite mastered and because of that she felt as if the rug were being ripped out from underneath her with each new assignment._

_For this reason Emma Swan was especially frustrated that she had let herself fall behind schedule that morning, missing the bus that would take her to the campus of Boston University. She had beat feet to get on campus in time to make it to her first class- _History of Piracy_ with Dr. Killian Jones- but Emma sincerely doubted that she would make it before the class was at least half over._

_She had already made the assumption that Dr. Jones would be another crusty, centuries old History professor just like the others that she had already encountered in her two years of post-secondary education. She was sure that he wouldn't care about her absence and would hardly even notice if she snuck in at the back of the class. Emma had always been good at blending into the shadows._

_Spotting her building Emma sprinted up the flight of concrete stairs, skipping steps as she went and hoping that she wouldn't break an ankle in the process. _

_Rushing into the air conditioned foyer, Emma quickly sought out her classroom and made her way down the quiet hallway. The halls were deserted, the students in the building presumably all in class._

_Emma sighted her classroom, gripped the door's sturdy wrought iron handle for a moment in an attempt to put herself together._

_Tugging the door open, she had no time to make a dive for the empty seat at the end of the closest row before a voice called out to her from the front of the classroom: "Look who deigned to join us this morning. Perhaps punctuality is a thing of the past but since this __is__ a history class I think it is reasonable to expect it of my students. Don't you?"_

_Emma, who had had her eyes fixed on the empty seat longingly, raised her gaze to detect the source of the voice with the song of Ireland._

_Her own green eyes met startlingly light ones. Emma couldn't decipher what colour they were exactly from so far away, but she knew that they would haunt her._

_In the back of her mind Emma came to the realization that she should never make assumptions about what a person would look like simply based on their profession, because Dr. Killian Jones was neither crusty nor ancient like she had presumed he would be. No._

_On the contrary, Dr. Killian Jones was a sex god._

_In fact, Emma had to do a double take to make sure that he was indeed her professor and that she wasn't hallucinating him into existence. Hell, she was exhausted and probably dehydrated from the run that morning. Maybe she __was__ hallucinating._

_Either way she feared that she had the appearance of a cartoon character; jaw on the floor and eyes bulging as she took him in inch-by-inch in a slow sweep._

_She started at the top of his head; hair dark as molasses looking intriguingly soft and shiny while at the same time appearing mussed up, images of secret moments in the dark flooding Emma's mind almost immediately. She didn't know that a professor could be allowed to work in a scholarly environment with such sexually suggestive hair but Emma certainly wasn't going to complain._

_Continuing on to his face didn't help her cleanse her mind as the first things she latched on to were his eyes. They were raw, uninhibited sex; hooded, surrounded by dark lashes and bright with mischief. Emma knew that look quite well. Dr. Killian Jones may have been a professor, but Emma could tell that he had once been a hellion if he wasn't one still. It took one to know one after all and that look only came from a deep desire to cause trouble._

_Her eyes moved again to his mouth, a devilish smirk that could turn any saint into a harlot. Emma was consumed with thoughts of what it could do to her, what it would feel like against hers as that layer of dark scruff on his jaw scraped against her cheeks._

_Goodness. At this rate she wasn't going to survive the semester let alone do well in this class._

_The blue gingham button-up shirt that he wore underneath a black long-sleeved sweater didn't conceal the toned muscles of his abdomen or his strong, capable arms. Emma knew that she would feel safe in them, with them around her, like she had never felt safe before. It scared her that she wanted that, that she wanted such luxuries. She had never been able to afford attachments before and she knew that to want them with a man could only hurt her._

_His legs were long and sheathed in khaki pants that he didn't look comfortable in, especially since he wore them with scuffed motorcycle boots. He was a panther in a cage, a wild creature in civilizing restraints. Emma wanted to let him loose, run wild with him._

"_I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to interrupt your lecture." Emma stuttered, finally answering his snarky comment._

_Dr. Jones took a few strides across the width of the classroom, his movements graceful and measured. "And to whom do I credit this heartfelt apology, love?" He asked, that lilt making Emma's heart race just a little bit faster._

I'll be anyone you want me to be if you keep calling me that, _Emma thought seductively._

"_Emma," she said coyly, "Emma Swan."_

_The professor nodded, appearing as if he were sizing her up, his gaze trailing over her form lazily._

_Emma fidgeted under his scrutiny and tried not to feel self-conscious because she could only imagine how she must look; blonde hair falling in tangles down her back, face flushed with exertion, her black and white striped long-sleeved crop top clinging to her torso like a second skin due to her own sweat. Her high-waisted jean shorts had fallen during her run to expose her belly button, the rips in them revealing the tanned skin of her thighs, and to boot her shoelaces were also untied._

She really was tip-top shape, wasn't she?_ Emma thought sardonically._

"_Well Miss Swan, I assume you've heard of me already so I won't bother introducing myself. Since you've already missed the first half of my lesson, perhaps it would be wise for you to take a seat up front where you'll be sure to pay apt attention." Dr. Jones lamented, gesturing to a desk in the middle of the first row._

_Emma grimaced, never wanting to be the centre of attention in the first place. Nevertheless she made her way up to the front with what little dignity she had left, head high and trying not to trip on her shoelaces._

_Professor Jones and his damned sexy stare followed her all the way to her seat, taunting and teasing her with each bat of his eyelashes._

Blue,_ she realized. _His eyes were blue._ Not just any blue though. His eyes were the blue of promises untold and desires yet to be quenched. They were a blue entwined with lightning, sparking her curiosity and her imagination. She wanted them on her with a selfish yearning, for the first time in her life wanting something-someone- all to herself. She wanted his attention. She wanted him._

_As she sat in the front row of his class that afternoon, she watched him speak of what it meant to be a pirate, and Emma couldn't help but notice that he often tied it in with the word peril._

_As he turned to face the projection screen and she admired his rear end, Emma became certain that Dr. Killian Jones was going to be the death of her -well, the death of her grade anyway- and she couldn't be more excited about it._

Bringing herself back to the present, Emma smiled slyly and tried to catch his eye for the fourth time that hour. He was deliberately avoiding eye contact with her, as they both knew that once contact was established the dance would begin again. It was quite a distraction, and needless to say when blue eyes met green a moment later both of them lost their trains of thought.

His gaze was seemingly stern, yet with that mischievous glint in his eyes she couldn't quite take him seriously. She knew his body language well enough that she was aware of the effect that she was having on him; subtle flush on his cheekbones, hair getting more mussed each minute from his fingers running through it, standing straighter as overcompensation for losing his professional coolness.

_Let's make him sweat just a little bit more, shall we? _Emma asked herself, spreading her legs a bit further apart beneath her desk and drawing a single fingertip up the seam of her thighs.

She batted her eyelashes and smirked when his tongue darted from his mouth to sweep across his lower lip in anticipation. She imagined all the other things he could do with the pink muscle and squirmed in her seat yet again, her torso undulating as she stretched.

She noticed his eyes traversing lazily over her form, his stare hot and roguish. Those lightning eyes of his made her want to let out an utterly feline purr, the desire to be stroked and savoured growing rapidly. She wanted him to eat her alive in one greedy gulp.

"Someone tell me one reason why piracy was so important to a growing empire in the time of Mesopotamian society." Killian asked his students, effectively breaking the tension-filled moment.

Emma rolled her eyes at his obvious attempt to distract himself, raising her hand to keep his attention on her. Across the room an overly eager brunette did the same, her perky face giving Emma a headache. She couldn't stand overly happy people.

Sending the girl a look that could freeze molten lava from across the room, Emma sent a warning to the girl; _Answer the question at your own peril._

The girl's hand quickly fell and Killian was forced to acknowledge Emma, his eyes bright with lust and mischief once they returned to her.

Emma opened her mouth to speak when another student shouted from across the room; "Sir, it's already been forty five minutes since class was supposed to end! Can we go now?"

Killian flushed, an adorable pink tint washing over his cheekbones yet again as he looked at his watch and realized that he did indeed extend the lesson far longer than expected.

"I certainly have carried on, haven't I? Alright. We'll pick this up on Monday. Happy Halloween everyone! Stay safe and make good choices!" Killian called as his students scurried from their seats, rushing towards the nearest exit.

Emma's eyes flickered to his as she slowly gathered her things, in reality having no intentions of going anywhere.

She mindlessly put her books in her bag as Killian wished his students a happy Halloween individually when they walked passed him, trying to stall for time until he and she could be alone.

Each murmured greeting of Killian's was paired with a steaming gaze in Emma's direction that left her pinned to her seat like a butterfly behind glass.

She waited with baited breath until the last student had exited the classroom, the door closing softly behind them. There was a silent moment as Killian moved to lock the door, his boots soundless against the tile. There was a faint _click_ then silence once again.

Emma stood from her chair slowly, her heeled suede boots the only thing in the room making a perceivable noise. Her knees shook as she waited, the moment of no return inspiring a twinge of nervousness inside her that hadn't been present before. After all, it was one thing to have fantasies when no real action was being taken. It was another animal entirely to actualize those fantasies.

She wanted to say something, anything, but the tension was too great and she was too afraid. Emma could be bold-bolder than most, actually- but never when her dignity was at stake. She had never put herself on the line until then, and she hated the prospect that he could leave her hanging when she was finally taking a risk on someone.

Wordlessly he came towards her, his cerulean gaze molten and focused wholly on her. They were hellfire bright and glinting with that hint of hellion she had seen earlier. His body was as lithe as a panther's on the prowl, his pace measured and the bunching of muscles under black cotton absolutely lethal. A coil of want stirred in her centre, air passing between her lips on a shaky breath.

God, did she want this. She'd wanted it, wanted him, from the moment she had met him. She just never imagined that she would have him.

Her mind started to scramble as he came closer, her breaths becoming fewer and far between and _goodness was it getting hot in there?_

The toes of his boots were flush with her own and she could see with startling clarity that he had flecks of silver in his eyes, right around the pupil. _He really was dazzling, wasn't he?_

His expression was predatory, his eyes giving away everything that he wanted, everything she wanted to give him. She could feel his body heat, smell that essence she had begun to associate with him; musk and winter air and the spice of fallen leaves. It was a heady scent and she wanted more, wanted to fill her lungs with it and steep herself in him.

Killian didn't move to touch her, and the blonde could feel her heart racing as she waited, waited. They were almost unbearable, those impossible seconds. Emma was hyper-aware of her own body; the thrumming of blood in her veins, the buzzing in her ears and the desperate whimper of _please_ that rattled around in her mind. She dug her nails into the flesh of her palms, determined to outlast him even though she knew her self restraint was about to be in tatters at her feet.

Any moment now she was going to ask, demand, _beg_ that he do something, say something-_anything_- to end this torture of standing on the precipice of _will he, won't he?_

He really was trying to kill her with that blazing stare of his and that mouth that was practically begging to be nipped at.

She knew that he had to be the one to make the first move because he was the one with the most to lose. Her heart dropped. _What if he said no? What if he changed his mind and left her standing there, deciding that she wasn't worth it?_

A cold sweat broke out over her skin at the thought, her heart pumping overdrive because _oh god she couldn't be rejected again-_

And then he pounced.

Emma could have written novels about the way his body moved to hers, the way his hands knotted in her hair and yanked her close.

Whatever Emma had expected from him in regards to kissing was eradicated by the reality of him, by the blessed union of lips to lips. It was a communion of sorts, a moment of relief and enlightenment because Emma hadn't known it could feel like this.

Killian kissed her as if he needed her to live. He kissed her as if he were dying and had been given the choice of his next breath or her, and he chose to breathe her instead.

Emma's arms wound around his neck like vines toward sunlight, her fingers weaving themselves into his inky locks.

Killian's hands moved down her back in a smooth glide, gripping her hips and hoisting her up onto the desk behind her. His hands created a hot clasp on her thighs, branding her as he pulled them apart, closing the space between them with his body so they were centre to centre.

Emma wrapped a leather-clad leg around his hips to keep him there, her breath mingling with his as simultaneously his tongue broke the seal of her lips to slide against hers.

He tasted like tea and warmth and man, and to Emma it was a drug. She needed more.

Her hands moved from his hair to slip over his shoulders- so strong, so sturdy- and her nails sought purchase in his skin. Her action caused him to let out an unrestrained growl, a noise that was not entirely buried within the depths of her mouth, and Emma chuckled into the kiss. Inside she was beaming; she really could make this man go wild and she _loved _it.

His teeth nipped her bottom lip- no doubt a punishment for her giggle- and her eyes opened in surprise to find him staring at her, his eyes teasing and hungry swirls of blue. He held her gaze for a moment before shifting his attentions to the column of her throat, the hands that still gripped her hips tugging her even further into the embrace of his body. All around her was his body heat, the scent of him overwhelming her senses.

The scratchy abrasion of his stubble against her smooth skin made heat blossom in her belly, wondering where else that stubble would ignite her sensitive skin just as skillfully. The contrast of it to the velvet brush of his lips and tongue against her skin made her writhe with desire, fingers twining in the fabric of his shirt and tugging it upwards.

"Too much clothing." Emma gasped, her voice faint and breathless as his teeth grazed the skin below her ear. She wanted him here, now, and damn him he wasn't naked enough and neither was she.

Killian's ministrations halted abruptly, his hands sliding up her body before taking her face between his palms, his long fingers brushing the silken edge of her hairline. "I want you, Emma. Believe me, I've never wanted anything so much as I would like to peel that leather second skin off of your flesh and have you right this minute."

Emma was left yearning from the lack of friction, the lack of stimulation. Her voice was somewhat desperate, more high-pitched and longing when she spoke."Then why don't you?"

Killian smiled softly; a quiet, endearing expression that she knew was only for her. Emma took a snapshot of that moment with her mind and stored it in the deepest, most shut away part of her heart to have with her when she was lonely. She knew that she would be able to get through her darkest of days because Killian Jones had smiled at her as if she were his sunlight in a desolate world, as if she were the only hope of redemption he would ever have, and that gave Emma more strength than anything she had ever encountered.

He chuckled raggedly, his eyes falling to the way they were still so entwined. "I won't, because you deserve so much more than that. You deserve more than a quick romp over a desk, rushed and fully clothed. I never expected things to go this far today." He chuckled raggedly, his voice hoarse, before continuing. "I guess you have more of an effect on me than I anticipated. Yet I am still a man of honour, a man of a code. If you'll let me, if you want me enough to take the chance on me, then allow me to show you a night you won't soon forget. It's Hallow's Eve this night. Join me. We could have dinner then give out candy to the children."

Emma smiled when his eyes lit up in excitement. Clearly this man enjoyed his festivities. "Do I get to dress up by any chance?"

Killian's smile matched hers as he helped her down from the desk, handed her her bag. "I would despair if you didn't."

Emma swung her bag over shoulder, started towards the door of the class. "Pick me up at the front entrance to the building at five thirty and not a minute later."

She had only made it a few steps toward the door before Killian's hand caught her elbow, pulling her into a kiss that momentarily jumbled her thought processes.

"Consider that a reminder of what's to come." He said in a low, sexy tone before heading to his desk and pulling out a book the width of her forearm.

Emma could feel his eyes on her as she left the classroom and she knew that if his kisses were any indication as to what kind of a lover he was, she was not going to survive a night in his bed.

_All things considered, that's a pretty damn good way to die,_ Emma thought giddily.

All Emma knew for certain was that if Killian was going to ruin her with his sexual prowess, then she was damn well taking him with her. Emma gave as good as she got, after all.

_Oh yes, _Emma concurred. _Killian Jones is never going to know what hit him._

And he was going to love every minute of it.


End file.
